Disclaimer: All characters and situations referred to 
outside of this story belong to Chris Carter and Fox 
productions. I am simply borrowing the 
characters for use in this work of fiction. 

Rating: PG-ish... maybe PG-13

Classification: MSR... finis shipper style!



                               Miracle
                       by  Ana Hawkman




    Another day alone. That was all that entered my mind as 
I woke up early one January morning. I looked out the window; 
complete darkness. A street lamp illuminated a spot on the 
street, just enough to show that it was snowing. Again.

    It hadn't been the happy, fluffy sort of snow. It wasn't 
even snow-man material. It was just wet, heavy, and depressing.

    I lay in the soft nest of comforter and body heat that I had 
created while sleeping. I looked at the red-numbered digital 
clock radio on my nightstand; 5 AM. Maybe I could call 
in sick. Groaning, I knew that I couldn't, and I threw back 
the covers before I had a moment to hesitate. The warmth 
of the bed was replaced with the biting cold of my apartment, 
and I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. What a way to wake up.

    My hand fell instinctively to my stomach, and I let it rest 
there momentarily. I still couldn't believe that I was carrying 
a baby. Mulder's baby. Our baby. Would she look like him? 
With dark, expressive eyes...and thick brown hair? I pictured 
his face, and almost cried as I did. The deepest feeling of loss 
I'd ever experienced ran through my body, causing me to shiver. 

    I covered my arms with my hands, wishing I hadn't thrown 
back the comforter. I got up off the bed, picking up the 
silk robe that I'd thrown across the chair next to it. I 
pulled it close around me, and padded sleepily through 
the dark apartment. It surprised me; how groggy I 
remained, even after waking up to such a quick 
change in temperature. I suddenly wondered if 
that had been good for our baby. 

    Our baby. By now, I should be calling her my baby. Her 
father was gone, and the search for him had become less 
frantic as the weeks passed. I had begun to believe that I 
might be the only one left who truly thought that Mulder 
would come back. But I believed in him throughout.  
Whenever I needed him, he'd always been there for me. 
Even if he came at the very last moment, he was always 
there. Saving me, holding me, yelling at me, whatever 
the case. I knew he would be by my side when I 
needed him the most.

    It was hard to think this way on a cold January morning. 
I turned on the light in the kitchen; and moved to the living 
room. Turning on some various lights around the couch, I 
felt slightly better. It made the apartment look (if not feel) 
warmer.

    I turned on the coffee maker, and put some toast in 
the toaster. I poured some juice, and turned the stove 
on to make eggs. I took some fruit out of the refrigerator. 

    Even if it was only for myself, I began to get in the 
habit of eating complete and healthy breakfasts. 
Banquets, practically, the size of them sometimes 
ridiculous. But our baby needed the food as much 
as I did. Sometimes, as I listened to the eggs sizzle 
in the pan, I imagined that I was not alone; that there 
was a house full of people to cook for. Our little girl 
(I imagined her about four years old,) my mother, 
my brothers, and sometimes Mulder. I would imagine 
us all eating and smiling over a large, warm breakfast. 
But whenI opened my eyes, I was usually only met 
with a pan of charred eggs. 

    I sat down at the table to wait for a few minutes while 
things heated up. I rested my head on my arms, and 
could feel my eyelids... so heavy...

    I awoke with a start to the feeling of a hand on my 
shoulder. Shit, I thought, my gun is in the bedroom. But 
as my eyes struggled to focus, I realized that there was 
something familiar about that hand. 

    "Scully?" Oh, God, that voice. The hand reached to 
cradle my cheek, and I could feel my adrenaline rising.

    "Mulder?" Damn. This was horrible. This was the 
man who I hadn't seen for seven months, the man I loved 
and trusted so deeply, my partner in every sense. And 
the only thing I could gather to say was his name. My 
vision sharpened, and I could see his face. It was 
hauntingly familiar, and I could feel tears fill my eyes.

    This had to be real. When he stood and folded me into 
his arms, I knew that it was definitely not a dream. He was 
here, he was safe, he was Mulder. Here when I needed him. 
He held me strongly, and I hugged him back with everything 
that I was. He smelled so good, like cologne and aftershave, 
and I rested my head on his shoulder.

    "God, Scully, I missed you so much." His voice was muffled, 
and I pressed against him.

    "I love you, Mulder. I love you, I love you..." my voice trailed 
off, and I was sobbing. I felt so vulnerable, so fragile; 
a feeling I had grown to hate. But just once, I gave 
in and cried. 

   As I did, I somehow became aware of my surroundings. The 
room was lighter; the day had awoken. It must be around eight 
o'clock, I guessed, and I suddenly wondered about the breakfast 
I had started earlier. I was late for work. But how could these 
things possibly matter? 

    I could feel myself becoming shaky from the sudden 
excitement. I felt so, so weak... and had just told Fox 
Mulder that I loved him. I would have to go into detail 
later; when I wasn't a blubbering idiot. I felt his hand 
on my head, slowly stroking my hair.

    "It's okay, Dana. It's all right; shhhh... I'm right 
here." He cooed this in my ear, and moved towards 
the couch. We sat down, still holding each other, 
and he pulled back gently. I took a moment to 
calm down, to pull myself together, then began 
to speak slowly.

    "Mulder... I have to tell you something." I looked 
into his eyes for reassurement. I found it there, also 
finding comfort, concern and love. I took a deep 
breath. "Before we say anything else... before-" 
my voice cracked, and I stopped. "I'm pregnant." 
There. Done. Gulp. 

    I had expected him to smile. To congratulate 
me, to put his hand on my stomach... something. 
But he didn't move. His eyes darkened, and I 
could feel his fingers lace through my own.

    "Wow." He cleared his throat. Several long 
seconds passed. "I'm so happy for you, Scully... 
I know how much you've wanted this." He was 
being stern; holding back. This was the formal 
and platitude response; I could tell that the words 
weren't coming from his heart. He looked down 
at our hands, silenced. 

    Oh, no. He wasn't happy. Maybe he didn't 
want children... Oh, Lord, let him want kids. I 
want him to be happy more than I want myself 
to be. I wanted to see him smile, laugh... be an 
enthusiastic father. I'd pictured him at soccer 
games, band concerts, and girl scout ceremonies. 
I'd pictured him playing outside, making dinner, 
tucking our child into bed at night. These visions 
faded. They didn't completely leave my mind, 
though. If Iwanted this baby, he would be all of 
these things if I wanted him to. He would be 
more, going above and beyond my expectations. 
To make me happy. But would he be content?

    "Mulder?" I caught his eyes, and held them; 
letting the tacit question linger between us.

    "Who... who's the, uh, father?" He stumbled over 
his words, his eyes dropping from mine. He pulled 
his hand slowly away from my own; as if it didn't 
belong there. His voice was so low and familiar... 
so suspecting and dreading.

    "Mulder..." I caught his eyes again. I leaned closer 
to him, and could feel his body stiffen. I let my lips 
hover centimeters away from his ear, and relished 
the sound of the next words as they fell from my 
mouth in a loving whisper. "She's ours."

    I pulled back to see his reaction, and he stared 
at me in disbelief. His body slowly relaxed, and a 
smile spread across his face, lighting the room. 
"She?" He paused. "We're having a girl?" I could 
tell he felt awkward referring to the baby as ours, 
but I nodded happily. Suddenly, he seemed to be 
hit with a thought that blockaded his rush of 
happiness and relief. "Scully, how did you 
conceive a baby? You... you were..."

    "A miracle," I replied simply, and took his hand 
in my own. I kissed the palm- a long, tender kiss, 
and put it on my belly. His large hand covered my 
small stomach, and I smiled at the feeling. As if he 
were protecting both our daughter and I at once, 
and with all of his existence.

    Our daughter.

    His lips pressed against my temple, carefully 
forming a perfect kiss. I rested my head on his shoulder.

    "I'm going to be a father..." He said quietly. 
"And a husband," he added tentatively. I pressed 
back the urge to gasp, and nodded against his 
broad shoulder. As surprised as I was, I thought 
of how we had been married in spirit, in trust, for 
so many years already. And it all made perfect 
sense. For the first time in my life, everything 
fit perfectly together. 

    "We're going to be a family," Mulder was saying 
these things out loud, as if to assure himself of 
what was going on. To lay down the facts. He 
picked that up from me.

    "We're going to be a family," I repeated, loving 
the warm sound of the word family. His hand began 
moving in gentle circles on my belly, and I snuggled 
against him. "Hey Scully?" He asked quietly. 

    "Mmm-hmm?" I could feel my eyes slip shut.

    "I think I found the truth."

Finis
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